


Stayed In The Darkness With You

by Ariasha



Series: Bloodlust [2]
Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Biting, Blood Drinking, Canon-Typical Violence, Crusades Era Joe | Yusuf al-Kaysani & Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Falling In Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:35:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26683786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ariasha/pseuds/Ariasha
Summary: The story of how Joe and Nicky lose their mortality and find each other
Relationships: Andy | Andromache of Scythia/Quynh | Noriko, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Series: Bloodlust [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1921279
Comments: 6
Kudos: 46





	Stayed In The Darkness With You

**Author's Note:**

> Prequel to Bloodlust but can be read as a standalone

Yusuf does not expect to survive the battle of Jerusalem.

When it becomes clear that his side are losing, that the Crusaders have broken down the walls and overrun the city, he knows that his death will soon be upon him. It is not such a bad way to die, he thinks. Jerusalem may not have been when he was born but it has become his home, and to die defending the city he loves is an honourable end.

When death finally comes for him, he is ready. The blade of a sword pierces his gut, but he refuses to die quietly. He uses the last of his strength to slice his killer from hip to shoulder. A mortal wound. It gives him a twisted sense of pleasure, that the man who has taken his life will follow him into death.

They lie side-by-side, their blood mingling in the sand beneath them. Yusuf can hear the pained gasps of the crusader’s breath and his muttered prayers to a foreign god. Yusuf feels his own life slipping away from him with every minute that passes and eventually the agony in his abdomen becomes nothing more than a dull ache. But still he does not die. He had once been told that gut wounds were a slow and painful way to go, but he wishes that he did not have to experience it for himself.

The screams from within the city die down as the sun sinks low on the horizon. The battlefield is quiet now. The pained breaths beside him grow quieter and he knows that his own time is coming soon too. But then the hush is broken by the sound of footsteps whispering over sand. For a second, Yusuf wonders with a flash of naïve hope that perhaps it is one of his comrades, come to save those who have not yet perished. Then his hope quickly becomes fear as he realises it is much more likely that it is the Crusaders, come to finish off any man who still lives.

But it is neither of those things. It is something much worse.

When a face appears in Yusuf’s vision he tries to scream but all that comes out is a ragged cry. The face above him is like something from a nightmare, twisted features with eyes the colour of spilled blood. Its mouth is open in what could have been a smile, had it not been for the pointed fangs in the creature’s mouth, dripping red.

Yusuf hears a strangled yell from next to him that cuts off into a pained moan. When he turns his head, he sees another of the creatures bending over the crusader who had struck him down. The man is struggling weakly but the monster above him is unfazed.

“These ones are still alive,” the creature above him hisses, voice filled with glee.

“I told you that battlefields of the best place to feed,” the second monster replies. “Why bother hunting when the humans slaughter each other for us.”

“Such easy prey,” the creature above him croons, running one finger down Yusuf’s face. He tries to recoil from the touch, as cold as the desert at night, but there is no strength left in his body to move.

When the creature’s teeth sink to his neck however, he finds that he does have enough strength left to scream.

* * *

When the monster finally leaves, Yusuf is sure that his end has come. He can still hear the creatures moving, gorging themselves on other poor souls like him. He feels weaker than he has ever been in his life and his heart beats slowly, with precious little blood left to move around his body. But still he is not yet dead. And worst of all, the pain in his abdomen has been replaced by a pain in his neck where the creature’s fangs had pierced him. Pain that grows every second until the agony consumes him. It feels like a fire in his veins, so much worse than the wound from the sword that had struck him down. It spreads throughout his body until nowhere remains untouched from the torture.

Yusuf writhes in the sand, praying that the pain will soon end and he will finally be allowed the sweet release of death. But it does not. Instead, it only grows worse.

He loses track of time. It could be hours or days or weeks that he is trapped in the agony, able to think of nothing but the pain and how much he wishes the crusader had cut his throat instead to spare him this.

Then, all of a sudden, the pain ends and Yusuf is still not dead.

When he opens his eyes, the world is too bright. The colours are too sharp and the harsh light of the sun blinds him. Everything is too loud. The whisper of the desert breeze sounds like a roaring hurricane. Even his sense of smell is heightened. Everywhere around him is the inescapable stench of death and decaying corpses, rotting in the heat of the sun.

The sound of movement next to him alerts him to the fact that he is not alone in the field of the dead. When he turns to look, he realises with horror that the crusader too still lives. Yusuf can see the gash in a man’s tunic where his sword had sliced through pale flesh. But there is no wound. The fabric is stained with blood, and more blood is smeared across the side of the Crusader’s neck. But his skin shows no sign that he has ever been injured, let alone mortally.

Yusuf must have made some small noise of disbelief at the sight because the man’s gaze snaps up to meet his. And that is when Yusuf realises that he is not a man at all. The crusader’s eyes, which Yusuf could have sworn were a cold blue when he had been struck down, are now a dark, bloody red. When the man opens his mouth to speak, Yusuf can see the same elongated and sharpened teeth that he remembers from the creature that had pierced his own neck.

“Demon,” The crusader cries, scrabbling away from Yusuf with a look of horror on his face. “ _Demon!_ ”

It takes Yusuf several seconds to realise the crusader is talking about him. It almost makes him want to laugh, that this creature is calling him a demon when he is so clearly a monster himself.

“I am not the demon here,” Yusuf hisses. “Look at yourself you monster, before you accuse me of such.”

As he speaks, he feels something sharp slice into the flesh of his lip. He winces in pain, bringing his hand to his mouth. His fingertips touch sharp points that have never been there before. It takes Yusuf several horrible seconds to realise what he is feeling are his teeth. What used to be four normal human teeth are now tapered to wickedly sharp points that slice through the tip of his finger like butter when he touches them.

Yusuf draws his hand away in horror, knowing the truth but not yet able to accept it. His skin is cold, as cold as the touch of the monster that bit of him. And worst of all, the blood that coats his hands from the battle does not taste bitter and metallic as it should but instead like the sweetest nectar that has ever passed his lips.

When he looks back to the crusader, he sees similar horror dawning in the man’s eyes.

“What have you done to me?” the crusader whispers, voice shaking. “What have you done?”

“I…”

Yusuf is at a loss for words. He does not know what is happening, prays that this is some kind of horrific nightmare he will soon wake up from.

“What have you done?” The crusader howls, pale fingers twisted into his hair in anguish. The noise he makes is inhuman.

Then he bares his teeth, and lunges for Yusuf’s throat.

* * *

If he had any doubts about the state of his humanity before, they die the way that Yusuf does not when the crusader tears out his throat.

It doesn’t even hurt, not really. The skin knits back together in an instant and the crusader’s shock gives Yusuf enough time to throw himself at the other man, pinning him to the ground. The crusader writhes beneath him, sinking his teeth into Yusuf’s arm as he tries to break free. Yusuf watches in fascination as the bite mark heals as soon as the crusader’s fangs leave his flesh, leaving nothing but smooth skin behind. He digs his fingers into the skin of a man below him and bares his own teeth in warning.

He hates him, this crusader that has taken everything from him. If he and his kin had never come, the streets of Jerusalem would not be soaked in blood. Yusuf would never have felt the pain of a sword through his gut and he would never have been left vulnerable and dying on the battlefield for the monsters to find. He understands now, what he did not before. That he has been changed, that he has become a monster too. And his enemy has been turned with him.

It is the fury burning within him that has him reaching out to wrap his hands around his opponent’s throat. It is with a sick sense of satisfaction that he breaks the man’s neck, hearing the way the bones snap beneath his fingers.

But the crusader does not die. Instead, his neck rights itself with a sickening crunching noise and he throws Yusuf off him like Yusuf weighs nothing. The man is on him again before Yusuf has time to react, fighting and tearing at any piece of skin that he can find. Yusuf retaliates, not knowing what it will take to kill this abomination of a man but determined to find out.

* * *

Blades do not harm them. Yusuf discovers this first when he breaks his dagger on the crusader’s garishly pale flesh. Their skin is stronger than iron and no weapon can pierce it. Swords are useless against each other, so they discard their blades and attack each other like animals. Tearing each other apart and watching as the unnatural flesh heals from every wound.

Eventually Yusuf finds himself pinned to the ground, the crusader’s weight pressing him into the sand.

“Lift this curse from me you foul creature,” The crusader snarls above him, eyes wild. “Take back whatever you have done and let me die.”

“I am not the one who did this,” Yusuf shouts back, furious. “Whatever happened to us, I have been cursed just like you.”

Shock flashes across the face above him and the crusader flinches back.

“It must have been you,” he says, although Yusuf can hear the doubt creeping into his voice. “I remember your face. You were the one who killed me. And then I woke up a monster. Who could have done this but you?”

Yusuf laughs, although there is no humour in the sound.

“You killed me first,” he says bitterly. “How could I have had the strength to curse you when I lay dying by your side?”

The crusader has nothing to say to this.

“I remember the face of the one who did this to me,” Yusuf adds bitterly. “And face of the one who did this to you. Believe me when I say I would rather you had died too. But you did not. And I did not. We have been cursed together.”

“Why?”

The crusader suddenly sounds very young and very scared. If Yusuf did not know how much blood stained his enemy’s hands, he would have felt pity.

“Why does anything happen? Why did you march into a city where you had no right to be and slaughter people whose only crime was to exist? Why did all my brothers in arms die when yours were allowed to live? Why was innocent blood spilled for the pleasure of bloodthirsty men? There is no reason for evil. It just is.”

The crusader does not respond. But he also does not attack Yusuf again.

* * *

The truce between them is fragile, but it holds. They cannot kill each other, so there is nothing else to do but make peace. The crusader, Nicolo as Yusuf discovers his name is, watches Yusuf with wary eyes. But he does not attempt to kill him again. Yusuf doesn’t believe it is from a lack of wanting to, only a lack of ability.

They slink away from the battlefield together, both of them too fearful to enter the city. Yusuf because it is full of Crusaders that would kill him on sight even if he were still just a man. Nicolo because neither of them are just men anymore. Yusuf does not know the other man’s thoughts, but he is pretty confident in his assumption that should Nicolo enter the city with his red eyes and sharpened teeth that he would be declared a demon, no matter what God he proclaims he fights for. Neither of them are safe among mortal men now.

They stick together because they have nowhere else to go. There is a vague plan in Yusuf’s mind, about finding the creatures who did this to them and demanding they reverse it. Or at least demanding answers. But he has no idea where to begin.

One night, he wakes to the sound of Nicolo weeping.

For a minute, he considers rolling over and going back to sleep. What does he care if a man with the blood of innocents on his hands cries for his own soul? The only thing preventing him slaughtering Nicolo his sleep is the fact that he does not know how. But the sobs continue, and Yusuf can feel the sound tugging on the strings of his traitorous heart. His father had always call him too soft-hearted for his own good and Yusuf knows that he was right.

He rolls over towards the noise and opens his eyes. Nicolo is kneeling, hands clutching the wooden cross he wears around his neck. His cheeks are stained with tears and his lips move in silent prayer.

“What do you pray for?” Yusuf asks, and Nicolo jerks at the sound of his voice.

“Absolution,” he whispers, voice quiet against the desert night.

Yusuf snorts out a laugh.

“And you believe your God will give it to you? How many men have you murdered? How many sins stain your soul?”

Nicolo does not answer. His tears gleam in the moonlight and his head bows low.

Yusuf has almost fallen back asleep when he hears Nicolo speak again.

“I believed my purpose in this land was righteous. I believed I was walking the path God set out for me. But now I have been cursed. I am barred from entering the kingdom of heaven and I do not know if I will ever feel the glory of God’s light again. I pray that He will forgive me. For all that I have done. For all the suffering I have caused. If this is my punishment then I will accept it, but I pray that it will not last for eternity and that I am still able to seek redemption.”

“If you think this is a punishment from your God, does that make me part of it?” Yusuf asks. “Do you believe he sent me to torment you?”

“I do not know,” Nicolo whispers. “I thought so once.”

“And now?”

“And now I believe that if God were to truly punish me, he would make me walk this path alone. I do not know what it means, that he has given me someone to walk by my side.”

* * *

As time passes, the hunger grows.

It starts as a bearable ache, a dryness in his throat that Yusuf can ignore. Then it progresses to a pain in his belly, like the years when food was scarce and everyone had to go without. Yusuf could tolerate it as a simple hunger, but it does not stop there. With every day that passes, the hunger grows until it consumes his every waking thought. No matter what food he eats, the hunger is never stated. No matter what he drinks, the thirst is never quenched.

Yusuf knows that Nicolo can feel it too. His companion’s cheekbones have sharpened and his face has grown gaunt. His eyes have darkened until they are as black as pitch.

In the end, being attacked is almost a blessing.

Yusuf has killed men before and fighting for his life is familiar. When the bandits ambush them, it is his natural instinct to defend himself.

But now he has new instincts too, and those are the ones that take over at the first drop of human blood that is spilled.

Yusuf doesn’t think when he sinks his teeth into one of his attacker’s necks. All he can focus on is the sweet relief of the blood in his mouth and the way the desperate hunger that has been clawing at his insides for so long is finally sated. He drinks until the man in his grasp has nothing left to give and then he turns upon another, still driven by a desperate need to feed. From the screams around him, he can tell that Nicolo is finally indulging himself to. The scent of blood is heavy in the air and by the time Yusuf comes back to himself, the road is littered with bodies. All pale and drained, and he is finally satisfied.

Nicolo stands next to him, chest heaving with panting breaths. Blood is smeared around his mouth and drips sluggishly down his throat, soaking into his tunic below. His eyes are filled with horror and they are red once more.

“What have we done?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper. Yusuf doesn’t know whether he is asking Yusuf himself or the God that Nicolo so often prays to and never receives an answer from.

When Nicolo’s God does not dain to speak, Yusuf answers instead.

“They were going to kill us,” he points out. He cannot pretend that he too does not feel some sense of horror and guilt at the massacre before them. But he has seen far worse done to people who deserve it far less.

“I drank their blood,” Nicolo says, and his eyes are haunted. “And it was the sweetest thing I have ever tasted. That is monstrous.”

Yusuf shakes his head, feeling bitterness rise in his throat.

“You think tasting the blood of men who sought to kill you is monstrous,” he says to his reluctant companion. “And yet your sword has tasted the blood of hundreds whose only sin was not believing in the same God as you. And you truly think that what you have done here is the greater evil?”

When Nicolo does not answer, Yusuf turns away.

“I do not understand you Nicolo,” he says with a sigh. He doesn’t know why they have been condemned to this life together. He doesn’t know if it is the will of Allah that he be stripped of his humanity. Whether it is part of a greater plan or a punishment for a crime that he doesn’t remember committing. But he does know that there is far greater evil in the world than what they have done here.

“I no longer know what to believe,” he hears Nicolo whisper from behind him.

“And I cannot help you,” he replies, refusing to turn and look at his companion. Everything is changed, nothing makes sense anymore. Yusuf does not know the fate of his own soul, let alone that of his crusader companion. “We may have been bound together by this curse, but the path you walk is your own. I am not here to save your soul, nor am I here to condemn it. You do that with your own choices.”

He walks away, knowing there is nothing more to say.

Whatever he is thinking, Nicolo follows him.

* * *

They search for their creators, because is all they can think of to do. Neither of them understand this life, what they have become. Yusuf can picture the faces perfectly in his mind. They are as clear as the day that he believed he was going to die, burned into his memory like a brand. Neither he nor Nicolo know where to look, but they search anyway. In all of their travels, they never meet any others like them. For all they know, the two creatures who turned them and they themselves are the only ones of their kind in the entire world.

As they travel they learn more about what they have become. They are faster and stronger than they once were. Their senses are heightened far beyond what any normal man could dream of. They can sleep, but they do not need to. They can walk many miles and not tire. They can be injured and feel little pain. But it all comes at a price.

The hunger claws at their insides and grows with every day that they do not taste the blood of mortal men on their lips. Yusuf has no qualms in killing those who threaten his own life, but he will not seek out the death of others simply to sate his own needs.

Yusuf knows that Nicolo feels the same, though neither of them voice it out loud. They avoid the busy roads, dodge around populated settlements. They are no closer to their goal than they have ever been, but there is nothing else for them to do. No matter how hard either of them pray, there is no guidance from above as to what their purpose is in this new, strange life. Months past and all that happens is they grow older, and closer.

Where Yusuf had once viewed Nicolo as an enemy, now he sees him as a…companion. Not quite a friend, not yet. He does not trust Nicolo, not truly. But he is more than a simple traveller who has happened to join Yusuf on the road. As the weeks become months they grow closer. They reach an understanding that Yusuf never believed he could with a man he had met at the end of a sword. But the shared fate binds them together. And the more Yusuf comes to know Nicolo, the more he realises that Nicolo has a kind heart.

Yusuf would never have believed it, the first day he met the crusader. But as time passes and the animosity between them dies, he comes to know the truth. Nicolo’s blade may be sharp but his heart is soft. It overflows with a kindness that touches all they meet, men, women and children. Especially the children. It is hard for Yusuf to understand how a man so full of love could fight a war based solely on hate. He wonders what lies Nicolo had been told, to convince him that his skills were best served slaughtering those who did not conform to his faith, rather than loving all who came across his path as Yusuf has seen him do.

But no matter the goodness in Nicolo’s heart or how much Yusuf wishes it were not so, eventually the hunger becomes impossible to ignore. He begins to watch those who pass them on the dirt roads with a hawk’s eye, focusing on the way the blood pulses in their necks and the frantic beat of their hearts. He knows that Nicolo feels it too from the way his eyes darken as the months pass by and his gaze grows sharp and hungry. Whatever curse the two of them have been afflicted with, it seems that one slaughter is not enough to satisfy it.

It is when they pass a travelling family and Yusuf looks at the rosy cheeked child and all he can think of is the way the young one’s pulse bounds in her neck that he knows they cannot carry on like this any longer. He has seen the desperate hunger warring with the goodness in his companion’s heart and know that Nicolo must feel the same.

“We cannot stay like this,” Nicolo tells him one night as they lie together underneath the vast expanse of the heavens. “Whatever we have been cursed with, I cannot control it much longer. I must remove myself from temptation, or I fear I will commit a sin that I will never be forgiven for.”

“I feel it too,” he replies. The hunger in his belly and the burning and his throat have become almost unbearable. There have been no bandits on the road on which to sate his thirst and he cannot risk losing control around an innocent traveller.

When no better option presents itself, they hide themselves in the mountains. Between the peaks, there are vast expanses of land where no other soul can be found. Yusuf hopes that removing themselves from the temptation of the living will cure them of the bloodlust that has ingrained itself into their souls. But it is not to be. Even with the temptation removed, the hunger only grows worse.

Yusuf is not sure if it is the bloodlust or another kind of lust that eventually drives Nicolo into his arms.

All he knows is that one morning he wakes up and Nicolo is on top of him, mouthing at his neck, breath panting and desperate.

“Please,” Nicolo breathes against his neck, teeth scraping against Yusuf’s cold skin. “ _Please._ ”

Yusuf nods, because of all the sins he has committed in his life, he does not think that allowing Nicolo this will be one of them. They have been bound together by a curse, by destiny, by Allah himself. Maybe they are monsters beyond redemption. Maybe they are following the path that Allah has laid before them. But whatever they are doing, Yusuf cannot feel that this is anything but right.

“Yes,” he breathes as he pulls Nicolo closer. “Yes.”

Nicolo bites down and the rush of pleasure that courses through him compares to nothing that Yusuf has ever felt before. He may no longer be human, and his blood may not satisfy Nicolo the way that human blood would, but Nicolo drinks him down anyway like his blood is the sweetest ambrosia. He presses himself into Yusuf’s arms and drinks deeply. And Yusuf can do nothing but hold him and know that he never wants to let go.

When Nicolo offers his own neck in return, there is no power in the world that can stop Yusuf from drinking his fill. The moment his teeth sink into Nicolo’s neck is like a revelation. The taste of his blood does not satisfy his hunger, but it fills him with an ecstasy that no other taste could ever compare to. It is intimate in a way that nothing else is. More than sex, and more than death. Both of which he is experienced and neither of which cannot compare to the feeling of Nicolo’s blood running down his throat and Nicolo’s body pressed against his, urging him to take more.

It takes a long time for Yusuf to drink his fill and even longer for him to be willing to slacken his grip on the man in his arms. When he finally does, Nicolo makes no move to roll away. Instead he clings to Yusuf like he never wishes for them to be parted.

“I thought,” Yusuf says carefully, not sure how to phrase what he wishes to say. “I thought you believed this was a sin.” He does not know if he is speaking of the blood that Nicolo has drunk or the intimacy that they have just shared.

“Of all the sins that I have committed,” Nicolo murmurs into his neck, “I do not think this is the one that will condemn me to hellfire.”

They do not leave each other’s arms for a long time.


End file.
